Of Roses and Wine
by Jinu
Summary: Fifteen years after the start of Harvest Moon 64, Karen is long gone and the vineyard is still in shambles. A new generation has arisen, though life in the village still isn't the same without the rose that abandoned her vineyard.
1. Storming

**Disclaimer:** I don't own Harvest Moon or any related characters, Natsume does. This includes the five children - I just gave them names and personalities.

**Author's Notes: **Heheh, well, here it is, my first HM64 fanfiction! And, just so you know, it is something of a next-gen fic. Now before you all run off screaming, I'd first like to ask you to give it a shot -- though it may not seem like it yet, there will be much more of a plot. Though the focus will never entirely shift to the first generation we all know and love, they will be playing a very crucial role, so the story won't be fixed exclusively on characters I've dreamed up. Anyway, on with the show...

* * *

**Chapter 1**

_No one really knows what made her leave._

_Her best friend thought it was her vineyard; her beautiful, glorious vineyard whose precious grapes had shriveled and withered in the shadow of its renowned years._

_Her father thought it was himself; the man who did nothing but bicker and nag and deny his daughter the right to live as she desired._

_Her beloved thought it was her child; the rambunctious toddler who was too much trouble for what she was worth._

_And her husband knew it was everything; from the man she married to the man she unrighteously loved, from the village she tired of to the city she dreamed of, and from the vineyard she loved like a child to the child she didn't love enough._

_It was storming the night she left. The rain fell mercilessly, cold and dark and grey. Her husband was trying to rock their wailing child to sleep. The lights had died hours before, and the desolate condition of her life was beginning to sink in. From what she remembers, she just snapped, concluding it was impossible to live like she was any longer. She left all belongings behind – just vanished behind the door without a word._

_Thus Karen left that night, and the vineyard's sweet essence of roses and wine left with her._

* * *

Sonya trotted along the rocky banks of Moon Mountain's river, looking up into the clouded sky, arms flailing at her sides for balance. The wind was incredibly strong today.

_It's not like there's anything better to do,_ she thought to herself apprehensively, sparing a wagging arm to pull a loose piece of bronze hair behind her ear and kicking a small stone out of her path. This was the fourth time this week Sonya had fought with her father, and this was the fourth time it had ended with her fleeing the vineyard shouting profanities no twelve-year-old should know, and the fourth time her father had responded by throwing his purple bandana after her and hollering words of equal vulgarity. It was at times like these where she felt she hated him with every fiber in her body. _Why_ did he have to be so stubborn, and more importantly, _stupid?_

The night before, Sonya had drunken more than a fair share of wine from the cellar, and naturally, her father was enraged. He screamed and berated her, and Sonya's heated reply had been, "It's not like anyone was actually gonna buy it!" This only resulted in enraging her father further, and it satisfied Sonya in a way that made her sick to her stomach. _Mom would never have done this,_ she thought again, this time with a vanity that only the thought of her mother could give her.

From what Sonya had collected from tales and her memories, her mother was a beautiful, exotic dancer with a fiery spirit to match. She was born and raised at the vineyard, and stayed there for the first half of her life. Sonya's vision of her mother had grown to the point where, with certainty, her mother was the most admirable and breathtaking woman Sonya's village had ever seen. She was wild and independent with dreams much too big for such a small village, and therefore left.

Unfortunately, she had married the worker hired by her parents and had given birth to a daughter by the time she had decided to leave. But Sonya never thought of having to forgive her for that.

Sonya could only dream of meeting her mother, whom Sonya thought was a divinity in her own right. And the fact that she was her mother's daughter gave her an odd sense of pride. _Her blood is mine,_ she'd think to herself. The daughter of the vixen, that's what she was. And as she nursed these pompous thoughts in her mind, her foot had caught an uprising stone - and she hadn't even realized she was tripping until her face hit the pebbles on the river's shore. She hissed a curse under her breath and pulled herself up, brushing her shirt off.

_Damn rocks,_ she thought to herself. _Knew I shouldn't have come here._ She spun around only to meet the taunting face of the boy she recognized from the nearby farm.

"What're you doing here?" Sonya demanded before he could make a smart comment about her fall.

"I should ask you the same," said the boy. "You know it's gonna rain soon, right? Or do you just not care?"

Sonya could think of no intelligent response, for she hadn't known and she did care. So instead she shrugged her shoulders and turned away to mind her own business. The boy, however, stepped in front of her, still awaiting an answer. He folded his arms and looked at her expectantly. "What?!" she shouted, irritated, and turned to face the other way. Unsurprisingly, he stepped to her front again and bent down to look her straight in the eye. "I want an answer, Sonya."

Sonya glared back at him, fighting the urge to rip that tawny hair straight out of his head. "John, you are the single most annoying person I have ever met in my life."  
  
He grinned crookedly, pleased. "It's my job."

"You get some strange satisfaction out of irritating people out of their minds, don't you."

"No," said John airily. "You're just especially fun."

Sonya rolled her eyes emphatically. She turned without word, obviously intending to climb the mountain slope. John expected as much.

He shifted his weight comfortably. "In all seriousness, you should get back home. The storm's going to be bad."

"Don't care," said Sonya, brushing him off with a wave of her hand. She marched towards the mountain path in a self-assured manner.

"Sonya, I mean it..."

"Still don't care," she sang, beginning her ascent up the mountain.

John shrugged. It was her business if she wanted to get sick, and he knew very well that any amount of persuading wouldn't budge her. He made his way back to the path to town, and it was then he felt the first splash of a raindrop on the tip of his nose.

Fifteen minutes later John arrived at the farm, drenched and aching from the cold, but otherwise intact. It was rapidly growing dark and the raindrops were growing heavier with each passing minute, and John couldn't see more than a few yards past his house. However, judging by the snorting and the whinnying and the beating of hooves on the grass, John could tell his father's horse was situated to the left of the field and was in a state of sheer panic. He ran to the horse and grabbed his reins, yanking them downwards and stroking the horse's neck. John's mother, who was tending to a frightened sheep, spotted him and blinked in surprise.

"In the house!" she bellowed against the thunder. The wind whipped her red hair about, and she tried vainly to keep it out of her face.

"But Mom!" John protested. "Ares, he'll--"

"Your father will take care of the horse!" Ann shouted, trying to keep her voice above the wind. "Now get into the house!"

John, knowing his mother was not one to argue with, began trudging into the house, sulking, and only began to run after receiving a vicious glare from Ann.

The second John entered the house, his mother slammed the door behind him and dashed towards the closet. John took a seat near the television as his mom began fishing in the closet for a jacket.

"Wait, where're you going?" John jumped to his feet as Ann ran towards the door, slipping on her newfound jacket.

"I've gotta help your dad put the cows in the barn," she said, almost calmly, reaching for the door handle.

"I want to help!"

Ann whirled, fixing her eyes on the boy, who was staring at her determinedly with her own cornflower eyes. "No. You're staying in here, Jonathan. And if I catch you out of this house, I'll hang you by your toes." She then turned toward the door and yanked it open. Immediately, rain unmercifully surged into the house, showering Ann in a wet layer of sleet.

"But I..."

"I mean it!" she called as she slammed the door shut behind her, further imprisoning John. He frowned, and threw himself onto his parents' bed. He tapped his fingers against the wall impatiently, cursing his parents for constantly being so unfair. They never let him help with important things, no matter how capable he was. They left him there to sit alone, to listen to the bullets of rain beating against the windows. 

The dimming lights flickered once, twice, and then altogether died. John sighed inwardly and sat up, beginning to brush his fingertips along surfaces in search of a box of matches. It was only after four or five minutes of blind searching and rummaging did he find them and set light to what was left of a candle sitting beside the bed.

And just as the dim, flickering light gave the room visibility, the door burst open, sending icy torrents of rain and sharp gusts of wind into the house, a silhouette crouched in its frame.

"What the-" John squinted his eyes in order to identify the shadow. "Who is it?"

The stranger wasn't given a chance to answer, for John's parents had come dashing towards the house. Apparently, they were finished with whatever task they had so impolitely excluded John from.

"Whoa!" John's father exclaimed at the sight of the figure. "Come on, we have to get you into the house..."

"Oh man," Ann breathed, leading a drenched Sonya into the house. Sonya shivered audibly, and Ann draped a thick woolen blanket over Sonya's back and sat her down near the fireplace.

Ann immediately questioned her. "How did you get here?!" she asked anxiously, worry lines tracing her face. 

"I dunno," Sonya began, tugging at her blanket. "I was running home because it started to rain, but I couldn't really see in the dark... I guess I took a wrong turn at the crossroads..."

John shot her an 'I-told-you-so' look, and Ann groaned in anxiety. "Kai's probably worried sick! We've gotta call him!"

"Mom, the power's out," John said, and as proof he pointed to the candle, their only source of light.

"Oh," Ann said dumbly. She threw up her arms in defeat as fatigue finally began to overtake her, and she dropped onto the bed, exhausted.

Jack grabbed his wife's hand and gave it a comforting squeeze. "Ann, go on and go to bed. I'll take care of the rest."

"No, I'm fine! I'll help with whatever..."

"Really, it's okay. You need rest," Jack said, softly yet firmly. Ann simply nodded and couldn't help the trace of a smile that played on her lips.

John scratched the back of his head. "So... I guess this means Sonya's staying the night."

* * *

"That's an awful storm," the mayor muttered as he stared out the waterlogged window, scratching his chin.

Mia nodded briefly in agreement and continued moving the pencil across the parchment fervently, outlining the maze of intertwining lines. She was engrossed in her drawing, as always.

"Great Goddess," Maria breathed upon entering the room. "This is undoubtedly the worst storm I've ever seen!"

"Don't worry, dear," the mayor said as he approached his daughter, reaching up to give her a comforting rub on her shoulder. Maria was, by standard, a short woman, yet her father was nearly an entire head shorter than her. It was a wonder how Maria's mother could have possibly chosen him for her husband - she was taller than Maria herself - yet her mother's mind had always worked in mysterious ways.

Maria lifted her head to call to the dark-haired girl across the room. "Mia, honey?" Mia lifted her head, adjusting her glasses. "Are you sure you can see with just that candle? I could light more if you..."

"I'm fine," Mia said shortly, turning back to the task of putting her mind's image on paper. Maria only nodded quietly.

The sound of a door opening and closing sounded from the back, and a tall man clad in a royal blue suit and cap entered the room, grasping the arm of a preadolescent boy. Both were soaked to the skin, and already the water dripping off their bodies was beginning to collect in pools beneath their feet.

"Harris!" Maria gasped, and then sighed with relief. She ran to him and clasped his arm, standing on her toes in order to plant a kiss on his cheek. Mia did nothing but move her pencil at a constant pace. 

"I'm so glad you're all right," Maria continued. "Goddess, I was worried... and... What's this?" she asked meekly, turning to the boy whose arm was still grasped in Harris's. His mop of chestnut hair was soaked and tousled, his clothes were drenched and clinging roughly to his skin.

"I found him trying to get to the vineyard," Harris explained. "Apparently, he was going to the vineyard to try and collect some wine for Duke."

Maria paused for a moment, wondering why anyone - even a bartender - would want wine from such a poor vineyard before speaking again, softly. "Rune, what are you doing here? Elli won't be pleased..."

"It's fine," Rune said. "Mom knows I'm out. She thinks I'm with Uncle Duke."

"And Duke?" Harris queried. "Where does he think you are?"

"The vineyard, I guess," Rune answered nonchalantly. "The storm came too quickly for me to get back on time, anyway, so he probably thinks Kai let me stay there until it calmed." 

"Here," Maria started, "I'll get you a fresh change of clothes so you don't catch pneumonia...Mia, could you please get a towel for them?"

Mia laid the parchment and pencil down on the end table, nodding politely. She then scurried out of the room, and Rune watched her without much thought, picking at the wet cloth inconveniently attached to his skin.


	2. Aftermath

**Chapter 2**

_Karen coughed. For the millionth time. Damn, did she ever hate colds._

I hate this, _she thought, sniffling. It was all her father's fault - and that came as no surprise. He cared more about his damned vineyard then he ever did about her._

_If he had just _helped_ her dig the stupid ditches..._

_Two days before, Ann had come by to visit Karen, and, of course, she had to drag Gray along. And, of course, Gray had predicted an awful storm was to come the next day. And, of course, Gotz made sure that Karen and Kai were the ones who were to dig the ditches along the grapevines to make sure they didn't get waterlogged._

_Too bad the rain came pouring down before they'd even started digging. Too bad Gotz made them do it anyway._

_  
And now Karen was horribly sick in bed all because her father had been the inconsiderate devil he had always been and didn't allow her to stay inside. He hadn't even offered to help, the bastard._

_  
Karen hacked up another round of coughs, and then turned over in bed and moaned into her pillow._

_  
There was a knock at the door. Karen quickly sat up in bed, wiping her nose. "What do you want?" she groaned._

_"Karen?" said the voice from behind the door. "It's me, Jack. I heard you weren't feeling well, so I brought you something..."_

* * *

"Hello-oo?" called a sing-song voice from outside. "Hello? Is anyone home?"

"Mint?" Jack said as he stepped out of the house. "Mint? What in the Goddess's name are you doing here?"

"Well," said Mint, huffing and reminding Jack greatly of her mother, "Please, don't act happy to see me or anything."

"Oh," said Jack, kneeling down to hug his niece, "Of course I'm happy to see you! It's just that I'm surprised that you'd be here, especially after the storm and all - shouldn't you be taking care of the animals?"

"Dad and Gramps already have that taken care of," Mint said. "Mom's going to the flower shop to check on Grandma. I thought I might stop by and check on you guys."

"Well, Mint, that's very kind of you," Jack said, nuzzling the top of her head with his hand. He opened his mouth to continue, yet before he could say anything, Mint interrupted.

"Is it true Sonya spent the night here?" Mint asked, her bright blue eyes suddenly turning very wide.

"Yes, but we're returning her to her home soon. Why are you asking?"

"Oh," she said lightly, "no reason."

Inside of the household, Sonya was awakening from her sleep - if that's what you would call it. She had tossed and turned throughout the night, and, quite frankly, she couldn't remember sleeping at all. A headache seemed to split her skull into two, her eyes ached and begged for rest, and her joints were stiff and difficult to move. She soon discovered that swallowing her own saliva meant swallowing a dozen knives, and she gripped her throat in pain and groaned hoarsely.

"Sonya!" John called as he entered the room. "My dad made eggs for break-" He cut himself off after seeing her condition. "Hey, you feelin' okay?"

"I'm fine," she said flatly, though her vocalization had morphed into a rough and grinding sound overnight. John burst into incontrollable laughing.

"You sound like you swallowed a frog!" he jeered, and Sonya threw her pillow at him. Hard. She missed, but just barely.

"Shut your face," she demanded in that same hoarse voice. John did no such thing; he only laughed again. Just hearing her voice was too much.

She growled ferociously. "I _said_ shut your face, you--"

"Whoa!" John shouted before she could continue. "No need for name-calling, I was just playing." He grinned crookedly. "And you have to admit, you do sound pretty funny."

Sonya growled once more, her mind told her to leap to her feet and tackle him - but she didn't have the strength. Instead, she moaned again, grabbed her quilt and yanked it over her head. "Go away," she ordered.

At that moment, Ann entered the room. "Sonya, get up," she said firmly. What Ann assumed to be Sonya's head shook from under the blanket. Ann sighed, walking towards the quilt and pulling it off of her head. What Ann saw was nothing good - Sonya looked terrible. Her eyes were red and bloodshot, accompanied by the bags which had formed under them. Her nose had turned a pinkish color. Ann bit her tongue nervously and felt Sonya's forehead with her hand. She had guessed correctly: she was burning up. "Aw, man!" she groaned, and turned to leave the room.

"What?" Sonya asked, glancing curiously at John.

"I'm guessing you have a fever," John said. "She does that whenever I get sick."

"She's not gonna give me one of Kent's..."

"What else?"

"Great!" Sonya moaned. "His medicines are just... gross!"

It was then Ann walked back into the room, a bottle of some thick, yellow liquid in hand. She carefully poured some into a spoon she was holding and approached Sonya. "Open up," she commanded, smiling in that instinctively loving way she showed with the barn animals. Sonya only frowned.

"Come on, please?" Ann said, showing another smile. "It won't bite."

Sonya did nothing.

"She's just scared," said John matter-of-factly.

"No-" The second Sonya had opened her mouth, Ann had seized the opportunity and shoved the spoon into it. Sonya glared at John, who was grinning like a fool. She mentally slapped herself; she'd fell for it. She winced and swallowed the liquid, and it was, by far, _the_ most vile thing she had ever tasted. "There," Ann said, satisfied. "Now we can get you home and into bed."

* * *

Mia usually wanted to spend her days alone. She'd always been the one in the back of the room, her nose stuck in a book, absorbed in her own little world. No one ever even bothered trying to converse with her; she'd always been interested in odd things, such as the meanings of the constellations and insects and centuries hundreds of years before hers. Mia always found it odd that Mint, the village's fatale, would even bother spending time with her, yet she would come to her house on an almost regular basis.

Mint was the daughter of the rancher, Gray, and the florist, Popuri. From what Mia understood, (and she should because she tended to keep a record of these things) Popuri was the village's belle, and her daughter seemed to uphold her mother's title quite well. Popuri was often dubbed Goddess at the annual Flower festival; her love of flowers gave off such a feminine aura that Popuri often seemed the only one fit to be Goddess. Of course, her only major competition back then was that woman who left years ago, but that was another story.

Since she was young, Popuri had possessed a distinct love of nature, and by the time she had wed Gray, she had already decided what to name her children: If it was a boy, she would name him Parsley, if it was a girl, she would name her Mint. Mia came to know these types of things were from journals she secretly read, gossip she overheard and ramblings Mint often fed her.

"Mia!" called her mother's voice from the other side of the door. "Mint's here to see you!"

"Oh," Mia said, shoving her little blue book into her bag as Mint entered the room. "Hello, Mint."

Mint sat down on Mia's bed, grinning at her in that naturally cheerful way she had. Mint ran a hand through her bushel of strawberry hair, looking at Mia. "So?" Mint said.

Mia blinked in confusion. "So what?"

"Rune!" Mint exclaimed, as if whatever she was trying to say was the most obvious thing in the world.

"What about him?" Mia cocked her head.

"He spent the night here, didn't he?"

"Yes..."

"So what happened?"

"Nothing," Mia said in all honesty. "Why, did you expect something to happen?"

"Of course!" said Mint, placing her hands on her hips. "This is Rune we're talking about! Now tell me what happened!"

"Okay," she started politely. "Dad brought him home in the middle of the night, saying something about Rune sneaking off to Sonya's. I brought him towels and went to bed. I woke up and he'd gone back home."

Mint looked almost appalled. "That's all?"

"Afraid so."

"Oh." Mint frowned, disappointed. She placed her hands on the back of her head, lying down on Mia's bed. "Well, if you didn't know, Sonya also spent the night at my uncle's."

"How ironic," said Mia, vaguely interested.

"She was apparently caught in the storm too. I think she was up in the mountains..."

"Not surprised. She's never at home."

"Well, can you blame her?"

"Yes," said Mia, surprising Mint. "Kai's a nice guy."

Mint frowned sympathetically. "But Mia, they're always fighting..."

"I refuse to believe that a decent man like Kai starts all those squabbles," Mia cut in curtly.

"You're not blaming everything on Sonya..."

Mia shrugged. "Maybe I am."

"How can you blame her? Life's been rough on her."

Mia glared at Mint through her glasses, obviously irritated that anyone would take pity on such a girl. "Just because her mother doesn't live here anymore doesn't give her an excuse to act rude and disrespectful. She's not the only one around here with a single parent. Look at Rune, his father _died._ I'd say that's worse than someone who just left."

"That's not fair." Mint wove her arms together. "Rune and his mom get along great."

"And why shouldn't Sonya and her dad?"

Mint sagged her arms in defeat. "I dunno."

"I rest my case." Mia took a book off of her shelf and sat on the bed. Mint smiled gently. Perhaps Mia was right.


	3. Flowers

**Chapter 3**

_Karen wrung her hands together uneasily. She tried vainly to steady her uneven breath, but to no avail. Several emotions were surging through her body all at once. Excitement because she could dance crazily in front of people with an excuse. Feverishness because she had spent the past few days in bed and still hadn't fully recovered from her illness. Annoyance because her mother wouldn't stop fretting over her outfit. And, most importantly, nervousness: Why was she so nervous?_

_Of course she knew why she was nervous. She just wouldn't admit it to herself._

_Quickly, she peered out of the back room and into the square, and immediately regretted it; she thought she might quail at the sight of Jack. There he was, with his lopsided cap and crooked grin, flourishing in the attention only the Harvest King would receive on this day. Karen closed her eyes and bit her tongue. If the Goddess had any compassion, she would be crowned Harvest Goddess this year._

_"Girls!" she heard Lillia calling. "Come on now – we have the results!"_

_Karen murmured a silent prayer before rushing to the rest of the girls gathered around the florist, crossing her fingers for luck._

_Only minutes later, Karen found herself in the elaborate pink gown of the Goddess, floating her way to the center of the square, rejoicing in her luck. She felt like bursting into dance then and there._

_She was going to dance with Jack!_

_The more she thought of it, the better it sounded. She and Jack, the celebrated pair of the harvest, dancing together, in front of everyone..._

_The mayor's voice yanked her out of her thoughts by announcing that the first dance was about to commence. Her breath caught in her throat as Jack turned toward her. Her eyes wavered and frantically searched for a place to settle; anywhere but him... and they caught Ann giving him a thumbs-up sign. His reaction was to quirk that crooked grin of his and wave to her shortly before turning to look back at Karen._

_And she found herself staring back, for she didn't know what else to do. She felt as though she was going to melt then and there..._

_Were she not feeling as though she wanted to leap for joy, she would have frowned. This was dangerously unlike her._

* * *

Sonya spent the next few days in bed after receiving a rather loud lecture and a scrape across her cheek from her father, and in turn she bit his arm, leaving a large red mark she hoped was permanent. She didn't cry; she was better than him and she knew it, and she wasn't going to allow him to faze her. So, of course, the moment she recovered from her illness and was allowed to get out of bed, she spent as little time around her house as possible.

It was of worthy note that the Flower festival was approaching. Sonya's generation of girls (she, Mint, Mia, and May, who was eight years older than the girls and caught between two generations) were too young to enter the festival, and would be until they each reached the age of thirteen. Sonya would be thirteen on the 26th of Spring. No one seemed to notice, though - but she preferred it that way. Mint had turned thirteen a season before. Mia, however, was only eleven, and would be until the 5th of Summer. That would mean next year, the three would enter the festival. Of course, Mia wouldn't be rightly qualified, but they'd make an exception for her, as they always did.

Sonya went to Jack and Ann's farm the day before the festival. She had no wish to see her father. Ann, who was probably the closest female friend Sonya had, gave Sonya one of her dresses which she had once worn as a girl, (Ann admitted shamelessly that she almost never wore dresses, so Sonya's choice of wardrobe was limited) along with a few pieces of jewelry (which Ann also admitted to never wearing). John laughed after seeing Sonya dressed formally, and Jack had to threaten them with his sickle to stop wrestling after Sonya had thrown herself upon John.

On the day of the festival when everyone had gathered in the square, Elli, who was the baker and Rune's mother, pulled Sonya, Mint and Mia aside.

"I want you to come into the back room with us," she said. "You all will be entering next year, and I want you to see how it's done."

It was an interesting process. Lillia, Popuri's mother, entered the back room minutes after they had all arrived, announcing the winner (it was Ann, who nearly groaned in anxiety). Popuri seemed both shocked and disappointed, but tried not to let it affect her too much. Elli and Maria didn't seem surprised at all, considering who this year's Harvest King was. Ann didn't seem to be affected as much as the others were; in fact, she seemed almost pleased with the fact that the burden of representing the Harvest Goddess would be passed onto someone else the following year. All, save Ann, seemed rather crestfallen. At first Sonya thought this was because they had not won, but soon realized that this was their last chance to become Goddess. As stupid as this festival was, it was probably a hard thing to let go of – letting go of the festival meant letting go of their youth. Looking at Ann, Sonya decided that she wouldn't let next year's decision affect her, either.

After all was said and done, Lillia approached the three younger girls. "I want you all to walk out throwing flower petals to mark Ann's path," she said. "You've seen your mothers do it," (Sonya suddenly felt angry, Lillia knew perfectly well she'd never seen her mother do it) "and I want you three to do it, as well - practice for next year. And make sure you watch Ann and what she does carefully."

Mint and Mia nodded fervently; Sonya did nothing. She was too angry at Lillia to do anything polite for her. Lillia shooed them all in line. Mia stood behind Elli and Maria, Sonya and Mint stood behind Popuri.

"And now," she heard the mayor's old yet strong voice say, "the Goddess and her entourage have arrived!"

Sonya didn't know she was supposed to be moving until Mint had given her a shove. She stumbled forward, catching up with Popuri and quickly flicking flower petals out of her basket. Mint cast her a threatening look; unlike the rest of the women, Sonya had not gracefully stepped out of the door, gently tossing handfuls of flower petals on her way down. She searched the crowd for John's jeering face so she could give glare daggers at him, but didn't find it before Ann had stepped out of the door and made her away along the path. She wore that beautiful gown she had seen countless times before; a dress in a light shade of pink which hung loosely around her skinny frame, flowers strung around her neck and waistline. Several more multicolored flowers adorned her hair where her white bow usually would have been, yet Sonya was relieved to see that her orange hair remained in that long braid she was so used to. Ann took a graceful bow (Sonya could tell she was resisting the urge to march back into the back room and change back into her overalls) and stepped toward the mayor, taking her place on his left.

Sonya picked at her gown, seemingly indifferent. To her, this festival was unequivocally idiotic, though she was certain Mint and Mia didn't agree with her views. To be honest, they seemed to be enjoying it thoroughly. Mint was chattering excitedly to Mia, undoubtedly about who would be whose dance partners. Sonya rolled her eyes with the same uneasy disgust most children have towards romance, and fixed them on the couple twirling in the square. Some of the villagers were clapping in tune to the music, and Jack and Ann were laughing as though this was the silliest thing they had ever done in their life, but it wasn't hard to tell they wouldn't want to be doing anything else.

Hoping she was right in assuming that all eyes were fixed upon Jack and Ann, Sonya slipped quietly away from her position next to Mint's mother. She spotted her father, sitting in his lonely corner as he always did at the dancing festivals, gazing at his hands as though they were the most fascinating things in the world. Sonya was suddenly overcome with sympathy for her father, and she shyly stepped into his corner and sat next to him.

"Dad?" she asked timidly. She wondered momentarily why she was even bothering talking to him, but finally settled with the fact that he was her father, and she had to.

"Yeah?" he croaked. His eyes never left his hands.

"You okay?"

Kai tilted his head to look at his daughter, who was gazing at him with the worried eyes of her mother. It pained him, but he gazed right back into them. He forced a gentle grin. "Yeah," he finally answered. "You know I'm always like this."

Sonya frowned and turned away, noticing the rest dancing had already begun; Popuri was clasping hands with Gray and Mia was blinking lamely at Rune's outstretched hand. "Let's dance," she said suddenly, surprising Kai. It was not a request; it was a demand. Before he had the chance to answer, his daughter was tugging at his wrists. "Come on," she prompted. "Let's show these losers how it's really done."

Kai almost couldn't believe how conceited Sonya was acting, and at the same time how it was so endearing. However, he embraced the fact, for she was only acting like Karen would.

Kai stood up, almost smiling as his daughter led him into the square.

* * *

After the music and dancing had ceased, after the piles of food had been reduced to plates of crumbs, after the rose bunches were scattered and the wine bottles emptied, the sun had set, and all but few remained in the square. Mia sat in a corner under a cherry tree, apparently sketching. Sonya took her place at the bench and surrounded herself with what was left of the wine. Jack, Ann and John were left in the center of the square, mother and son swaying as if the music were still playing.

"Mom!" John was complaining. "I can dance fine!"

"Oh please," retorted Ann, fastening her son's hand at her waist. "You would have looked horrible out there if it weren't for your cousin."

"Relax, Ann," Jack put in. "He did fine."

"Not as good as Mint," said Ann bluntly, and John made a face. "And we're going to fix that!"

"But Mom, she's a _girl_, she's supposed to dance good..." John cut in.

Ann only winked. "Trust me, hon, you'll thank me later."

Sonya took the time to turn away from her wine to watch the family, for lack of anything better to do. John had just finished saying something about how dancing was a girlish thing, and Ann snorted.

"On the contrary," she was saying, "dancing can be a very masculine thing. How else are you supposed to woo a girl?"

"_Mom!_" John made a disgusted face.

Ann ignored him and continued. "Your father should know, I remember the first time we danced..."

Jack chuckled modestly. "I wouldn't say that. Kai was ten times better than me."

"Well of _course!_" said Ann. "You can't compare anyone to him. He and Karen had everyone completely _mystified _when they danced! I mean, they did win Harvest King and Goddess every year..."

"It's a shame Kai stopped dancing." Jack rubbed his neck.

"He was dancing with Sonya this year," Ann pointed out.

Sonya was intrigued, frozen in her place, all of her attention focused on the couple talking about her family, of all things. She wondered briefly if they knew she was there. Mia, meanwhile, had taken this opportunity to sketch the girl fixed in place.

"Well yes," Jack was saying, "but it wasn't like he used to."

"True." Ann sighed, disheartened, and released her hold on her son, much to John's relief.

"I wonder if Karen still dances?"

Ann shrugged. "Probably. Dancing was all she had. Well, except for the vineyard, but that's pretty much gone."

Sonya scowled, finding it hard to not take the comment personally. But Ann was right; the vineyard was failing, whether or not she chose to acknowledge it.

"Anyway," Ann lightened her tone, "Let's get back to business. John, get over here and put your hand back on my waist. Sonya, you can join us, if you like."

Sonya looked up, surprised. "No thanks," she said calmly. "I should... I should be getting back home."

"Okay," said Ann. "We'll be here if you need us."

"Thanks," said Sonya, standing up quickly and striding out of the square. Ann sighed and shook her head, waiting a good minute before continuing the conversation.

"I still think it was wrong of Karen to just get up and leave like that. Look what it's done to Kai... It's bound to have an affect on her daughter." John blinked at the sudden remark.

Mia, who was busy cursing her luck and trying to sketch Sonya's position from memory, glanced up. Apparently she was more inconspicuous than she thought; this conversation was obviously not for her ears.

Jack sighed. He could think of nothing to say.

"What made her leave?" continued Ann. "She had a whole life ahead of her..."

"I think it was the vineyard," said Jack. "It was doing so poorly."

"But her family, Jack!" Ann protested. "She had a husband who loved her and an adorable little girl... What more could she want? They could've made the vineyard work!"

Jack shrugged in defeat. Ann stared, waiting for a reply, but received none. After a minute of silence, Jack finally said, "It's getting cold. Let's go home."

Ann sighed tiredly and wrapped her arm around her husband's waist. "You're right," she said. "Let's go." They began to make their way off of the square, John following silently.

Mia counted a full two minutes in her head before she dared to get up. She tucked her sketchbook under her arm and hurried off the plaza, silent as a mouse.


	4. Vagabond

**Chapter 4**

_"Listen Jack, I have to go."_

_Jack stared at him in bewilderment. "What? Why?"_

_Cliff shook his head. "Don't have a place to stay," he said. "Winter's here, and a cave isn't a good place for a guy to sleep."_

_"You can stay with me for a while—"_

_"No Jack," he said firmly. "I've said my goodbyes and I'm leaving."_

_Jack frowned heavily as Cliff turned to leave._

_"Cliff! Wait!"_

_Cliff tilted his head to look at him._

_"Don't you at least want to say goodbye to Ann before you go?"_

_Cliff scowled. "No." Just seeing her face would hurt too much._

_Jack gazed at Cliff solemnly. "Don't do that to her. She really does love you, you know."_

_Cliff couldn't face him anymore. He turned away. "Not like she loves you."_

_Jack stared, confused. "I don't under—"_

_"I'm leaving," he said. "Goodbye, Jack."_

_Jack couldn't think of anything to say. He knew exactly what Cliff was implying, but was afraid to say it for fear of confirming it._

_And Cliff walked away from the farm, and it would be the last time Jack would see Cliff for a long time._

* * *

Sonya had hoped for her birthday to pass silently and unnoticed, as they had a tendency to do. Her father would usually buy her a cake from Elli's bakery, and that was usually all she needed. But on her thirteenth birthday, Sonya received the strangest of all surprises she had ever recalled. It came in the form of an oddly-dressed, pony tailed, rough-looking stranger who happened to stop by her home.

On the day of her birthday when a knock came to the door, Sonya was expecting either Ann or Mint coming to quickly wish her a happy birthday, but instead she found a middle-aged, unshaven man glaring down at her, and she nearly jumped for the fact that she'd never seen him before in her life. The man seemed just as surprised. They stared at each other curiously for a moment, each wondering who the other was and what they were doing at the vineyard, until the man finally broke the silence by asking: "Is Gotz here?"

Sonya assumed he was referring to her grandfather and shook her head. "He moved out a while ago."

He paused briefly, eyes falling in disappointment, and then continued. "Is Sasha here?"

She shook her head once more, aptly curious at who this man was and how he knew her grandparents. "She moved with him."

She saw his shoulders sag, and as a last attempt, he said, "Karen?"

Sonya hesitated before shaking her head a final time. "She left before them." She suddenly felt pity for this man - though his rough exterior did not suggest it, he seemed desperate.

"Oh," he said, and then rubbed his arm. "Okay then. Thanks anyway." He turned to leave, and he had taken a few sluggish steps off of the doormat before Sonya called after him, "Wait!"

He turned to face her. "Mm?"

She looked at him squarely. "You knew my mom?"

He blinked in surprise, realization dawning upon him, and then gazed at her as if for the first time. Sonya held herself, though she felt herself tense under this strange man's gaze. After what seemed like an eternity, the man finally said, "Ah, I see now." He smiled at her warmly, and Sonya felt herself relax. "You have her eyes."

Sonya continued to stare. "Who are you?"

The man seemed amused. He put his hands to his waist and said, "You first."

"Sonya," she said briefly.

The man nodded his head and offered his hand. "Nice to meet you, Sonya. My name is Cliff. I used to know your mother very well."

Sonya felt intrigued by this man, and spent the rest of the afternoon following him around the village. He received several blank stares and greeted no one, and it didn't take a genius to tell he had been here at least once before. By the time they reached the mountains, Sonya concluded that Cliff was a very odd man indeed, and this fact only succeeded in fascinating her further. However, Sonya's presence did not go unnoticed, and so the man tried to make conversation with her more than few times. They soon learned that each of them were people of few words, and could therefore walk in a comfortable silence.

After a few hours of following this man around in almost complete silence, Sonya's curiosity was getting the best of her, and she soon found herself unable to stop asking questions. Luckily for her, Cliff didn't seem to mind much.

She asked him the most obvious question first. "Do you know the people here?"

Cliff continued walking as though she'd never said anything. Sonya waited a moment for an answer until she decided she would get none, and also pretended she'd never asked. However, she was not satisfied, and asked him another question: "How do you know my mom?" This one he answered.

"We were friends," Cliff said. Sonya knew it was not the whole truth as much as she knew he wouldn't tell it to her.

"Did you know her well?"

"Yes."

"How long ago were you here?"

He shrugged.

"Are you traveling alone?"

"Yes."

"Don't you have any family anywhere?"

"I used to," he said vaguely. "I suppose I still do now."

"Why aren't you with them?"

"I don't know where they are."

"Where did you get those clothes from?"

"I made them."

"Why don't you cut your hair?"

"Don't feel like it."

"Why is your hair blonde in the back?"

"Same reason your mother's was."

Sonya stopped in her tracks. "_What?_"

"You heard me."

Sonya stopped bombarding Cliff with questions after that.

It was late afternoon when Cliff stopped at the mountain base, in the place behind the carpenter's hut. Sonya asked him what they were doing here, but once again, she received no reply. Cliff walked along the rocky wall of the mountain, apparently searching for something, until he finally muttered, "Ah, here it is."

Sonya, who had been staring at him as though he were crazy, asked, "Here what is?"

And he gave her an answer by slipping between the rocks and vanishing.

Sonya stared and rushed to the spot where he had disappeared to, and was not surprised to find a crevice within the rock. She peeked in to see a cave large enough to fit twenty people, if not more. And there in the center was Cliff, on his knees lighting lanterns. Sonya slipped into the crevice and stared at him disbelievingly. "What are you _doing_ in here?"

Cliff, meanwhile, was peering into a hole on the eastern wall. "Hmm... looks like the sprites have left."

"The _what?!_" Sonya couldn't believe her ears. "Are you insane?!"

Cliff lifted himself back onto his feet. "Partially," he said.

Sonya dropped to her knees. After a moment of silence in which Cliff busied himself with unpacking food from his rucksack, Sonya asked, "What sprites?"

"The Harvest Sprites," he said casually.

Sonya crossed her legs. "You're being serious, aren't you."

"Of course I am." Cliff looked at her earnestly. "People are just too skeptical to believe these kinds of things. In fact, I believe there was a grand total of three people in this place who knew they existed."

"Who were they?"

Cliff leaned against the back wall and folded his arms behind his head. "Well, there was me... Then there was the potion shop dealer..."

"You can't possibly mean Kent," Sonya interrupted.

Cliff waved his hand. "No, of course not. Kent was his grandson."

Sonya frowned. "Oh. I think the guy you're talking about passed away a while ago."

"Oh?" Cliff eyed her. "That's too bad. He was a wise man."

"Who was the third person?" Sonya prompted impatiently.

"A farmer named Jack," he answered.

"You knew Jack?" Sonya asked, suddenly interested.

"Of course. Who didn't?" Cliff chuckled to himself. "That guy knew everybody. He was one of my best friends way back when. I suppose he's still around?"

"He's been around as long as I can remember," Sonya clarified.

Cliff grinned fondly. "He was a good guy, albeit a strange one. A bit on the naïve side, if you ask me, but he had this odd wittiness that just seemed to show up in him randomly. Responsible, but had a horrible temper. Is he still like that?"

Sonya shrugged. "I dunno," she said. "Well, I guess he's kinda responsible, like a grown-up, and um..."

"Jack? Are you kidding? He was one of the most childish people I knew."

Sonya shrugged once more. "But that's just me..."

"Maybe he's changed," said Cliff.

"Maybe," Sonya muttered, unsure of what else to say.

Cliff folded his arms, and Sonya could just see him melting back into his stoic persona. A few silent moments passed before Cliff asked, "What time are you supposed to be home?"

Sonya cursed aloud. "Dad's gonna kill me!" she exclaimed, and scrambled to her feet.

Cliff half-chuckled and smirked. "Thought so."

Sonya was already at the entrance. "I promise to stop by later. Bye!" She squeezed herself through the crevice and dashed back home, leaving Cliff to wonder who exactly 'Dad' was.

* * *

"I don't know why they even bother," Rune said, scrubbing the tabletop clean. He worked at the bar daily now, though Duke, who was both the bartender and Rune's great uncle, forbade him to do so during open hours.

"No," said Duke, "You don't."

Rune obviously didn't take the hint. "They really should sell it," he continued. "Though I can't say they'd make much of a profit off of it…"

Duke frowned at him, the creases digging into his face. "On the contrary, the vineyard is ideal farming land."

Rune looked up from his scrubbing. "Then why can't they grow grapes?"

"They can," said Duke. "Just not well."

"You know what I mean."

Duke rolled his tired eyes. "They only have two workers – three if you count yourself, and that's just during Fall – one of which is a stubborn little girl who refuses to work most of the time."

Rune tossed his cloth onto a chair, abandoning his task altogether. "From what I understand, the vineyard was failing long before Gotz and his family left. Now why's that?"

"It's as much a mystery to you as it is to me, boy." Duke looked at him crossly. "Now do your work."

Rune picked up his cloth and resumed washing the table, continuing his talk. "I don't get it," he said. "The soil's not bad or anything, right?"

Duke sighed, exasperated. "Why are you so interested in this all of a sudden?"

"I'm curious, that's all. It was really successful before, wasn't it?"

"Of course."

"So why isn't it now?"

Duke sighed once again, rubbing his forehead. Rune, apparently, was expecting another story. "Do you know who Eve was?"

"Nope." Rune seated himself in one of the chairs, watching Duke eagerly.

"She was Gotz's mother," Duke began, "and Karen's grandmother and Sonya's great-grandmother. She founded the vineyard. The story goes that the vineyard was a truly miserable place until Eve set herself to restoring it. And do you want to know how?"

"Yes..."

Duke picked up a broom and began sweeping the floorboards. "She prayed to the fairies."

"Excuse me?"

"I said she prayed to the fairies. So they aided her, dancing around the vines and nurturing the grapes until they grew round and fat and a healthy shade of purple."

Rune waved his arm dismissively. "You don't expect me to believe that, do you?"

Duke rolled his shoulders, sweeping the dust into a corner. "Believe what you will. All I know is that the vineyard died along with Eve."

Rune folded his arms, still unwilling to believe him. "So why didn't the others pray to the fairies?"

"Oh, Karen tried. Several times." Duke opened the door momentarily to sweep the dust out of the bar. "She'd tell me about it, too. She'd sit in front of that Goddess pond for hours, hissing prayers under her breath and trying to force the fairies out of their hiding place." Duke closed the door and placed the broom in a corner. "Poor girl."

"She didn't really think it would work, did she?"

Duke was silent for a moment until he finally said, "I did. Maybe I should have it given her..."

"Given her what?" Rune stood up.

Duke frowned, muttering darkly to himself. "Stupid of me, saving it like that..."

"Uncle Duke?"

Duke glanced at Rune momentarily before turning and heading into the back room silently, leaving Rune to stare confusedly. After minutes had passed, Duke finally returned, a bottle of wine in his hands. He dropped it into Rune's hands wordlessly.

Rune examined the bottle. "What is this?" he said, brushing the dust off of the glass.

"Eve's wine," Duke said, and Rune looked up at him, bewildered. Duke rubbed his shoulder. "The Door to Heaven, more commonly known as Heaven's Gate. The farmer's grandfather gave it to me; he wanted me to give it to Jack. But I wanted to give it to Karen, she may have needed it when she was praying..." He looked at the boy. "It's yours now."

Rune regarded the bottle with a new respect. "You can't be serious. Do you know how much money this is worth? I – we should give it to Kai! And..."

"Do what you want with it. Just put it to good use."


	5. Fireworks

**Chapter 5**

_New Year.___

_Well, this is it._

_It was the night before the first day of Spring, when people made vows to do things right, when people stayed up half the night dancing and drinking, the night when almighty declarations of love were made on the stroke of midnight._

_Popuri, suspicious as ever, knew exactly what was on her mind. "So, Karen, have you found anyone that's caught your eye?"_

_Karen felt the knot in her stomach pull tighter. "Maybe," she admitted, and then quickly turned the question around. "Why, have you?"_

_Popuri's laughter chimed, a sound like bells. "Ann's brother..."_

_Karen interrupted. "You mean the one who's been crushing on you since oh, say, forever?"_

_"Has he really?" Popuri asked, making an abashed sound. Karen knew that this was no news to Popuri._

_"Obviously," Karen said smugly._

_"Well then." Popuri's eyes flitted to Gray, who was watching Ann intently, who was snapping at her father, who Karen could tell was obviously drunk by the red in his cheeks._

_"Good luck," Karen said, unusually kind. She gave Popuri a shove in the back and winked at her, and Popuri suppressed another round of giggles and took a seat next to Gray._

_Karen sighed. Hail Popuri, queen of flirting._

_"FIVE!"_

_Karen jumped, nearly dropping the glass of wine in her hand. She took a quick glance at the clock – five seconds to midnight._

_"FOUR!"_

_Suddenly she remembered what she came here for. She swept her glance about the room._

_"THREE!"_

_Where was Jack, where was Jack, where was Jack?_

_"TWO!"_

_There! In the corner, with Ann and Harris. Karen made a start._

_"ONE!"_

_She was almost there. Almost there... And what she suddenly saw made her heart stop._

_"HAPPY NEW YEAR!"_

_There, in the corner of the bar, in the midst of the shouts and yelps, Jack was kissing Ann. In her hand she held a feather, blue as the moon._

* * *

Summer rolled in, breaking in the thick heat too quickly for anyone's tastes. Days were long, nights were hot, and the air was thick with dust. There was a comfortably small beach area behind the ranch, and these were the days in which it was always occupied.

Summer was a month dreaded by all. Summer meant hours in the kitchen for Elli and Rune, baking in the combined heat of the sun and the stoves. Summer meant double the work for Stu, who was stuck with the chore of watering Lillia's greenhouse plants twice as much as usual. Summer meant dehydrated animals, gardens that needed constant attention, sweat and grime and peeling skin. The only people who really enjoyed the Summer happened to be Mint, Rune and Ann. Ann because she celebrated her birthday in Summer, Mint because it was good swimming weather, and Rune had an excuse for avoiding the bakery.

Over the Summer days that followed, Sonya had appointed herself in charge of bringing Cliff his food. Cliff insisted he was fine, but Sonya wouldn't take no for an answer. She would bring him meals almost daily, and Cliff would accept it politely. Luckily for her, Kai hadn't taken notice to her constant meetings with Cliff. She supposed that she already was gone so often it didn't make a difference how often she was home now.

For John, work in the Summer was especially horrid. If Jack ever laid eyes John, he knew he would have him working till dusk, and by that time he'd be drenched in his own sweat. Water the crops again, recheck the water bins, go help Popuri with her garden. His only escape was the beach and occasionally the grape vines, which provided nice cover for when he needed to be hidden.

The only breaks in Summer were festivals, each of them dull in their own way, aside from the swimming festival in which a race was held. But unfortunately, that festival didn't come until the end of the season, leaving the sensitive ones to hot and humid misery.

The first of the festivals was the fireworks.

In the evening, Sonya followed her father to the square. It was slightly crowded, though comfortable enough. When her father left to be on his own, she thought of joining Ann, though she didn't seem like she needed more company – she was almost lying against Jack's chest, his legs at her sides, and they were murmuring to each other. Scratch that one. She glanced around for Mint, but she was busily chatting with Rune and Mia and she didn't want to interrupt them. Sonya's father was with Mia's parents, Gray and Popuri were with Stu and his wife, and suddenly Sonya felt very alone.

With thirty minutes to spare before the fireworks started, Sonya found herself at Cliff's cave. But he was nowhere to be found.

She cursed angrily. _Sure, just forget about me_, she thought angrily, kicking away a stone. She crossed her arms and stormed her away over to the beach, muttering incessantly.

She was still grumbling bitterly by the time she reached the beach. Catching the silhouette of a person out of the corner of her eye, she froze and jerked her head up to catch a glimpse of him. She thought of turning back, but it was too late, he'd already spotted her. "Sonya," said John. "What're you doing here?"

She kept her arms folded. "I wanted to watch the fireworks alone," she said. "Can't really do that here..."

"Why?" he asked, scooting over to give her room to sit. She didn't move.

She shrugged coolly. "Everyone else seemed busy at the square. I'd rather be alone by myself than alone in a crowd."

"Makes sense." John faced the ocean once more and attempted to start a conversation. "You couldn't sit with Mint?"

"She was with Mia, and I know she wouldn't want me there."

"Mia's not so bad." John shuffled the sand between his fingers.

"No." Sonya glared menacingly into the sea. "But I know the way she talks about me. She doesn't like me, plain and simple."

"Maybe you should try to be nicer to her," he offered.

Sonya made a spitting noise through her lips that suggested she thought the idea was incomprehensibly stupid.

John studied a handful of sand thoughtfully. "I don't think it's you she doesn't like," he said carefully.

Sonya swept her gaze over to him. His back was to her, he was facing the sea, observing something in the palm of his hand. A distraction, an excuse for not looking at her.

"Oh?" she said, and she saw a quick gust of wind tug at her clothing and comb through his hair.

John paused to think of what he would say before speaking. "She isn't too fond of your mother."

He heard Sonya spit into the sand, a vulgar act for a girl. "That isn't fair," she said, loudly and defensively. "She doesn't even know her."

"But she knows what she did."

"That arrogant little twit," Sonya spat. John rolled his eyes.  
  
Sonya made her way to the shore, not two feet from where John sat. She tore off her shoes and placed her feet into the water, letting the water wash through her toes, upturning the sand under her heels. This seemed to calm her.

"Goddess, I can't tell you how angry that makes me," she said suddenly.

He turned his head, slightly surprised. "I would be too."

"She has no right to think that," Sonya began, this time with a little less anger and a little more desperation. "I mean... my mom had her reasons... And she's never even met her! And—I mean—who would want to live on a vineyard like that anyway?!"

John rested his head on his knees. Sonya knew he was tired, his expression was proof enough. However, his eyes suggested otherwise, as they were bright and blue and curious as ever. "Don't you?"

Sonya contemplated this for a moment. "I dunno," she said at last. "Sometimes I think I do... and sometimes all I want to do is get out of here... but... maybe I..."

"Shh," he whispered suddenly. "They're starting."

She ceased her rambling reluctantly. Rather than looking to the sky, she looked to the water. For the fireworks, in all their brilliance, were being reflected in the sea. She noticed the waves gave the display an extra shine. The fireworks reminded her infinitely of the cherry blossoms, the way they burst into bloom so beautifully, the way the petals of sparks simmered and fell from the sky so suddenly. She remembered the midwife's words: Such is the life of a soldier, whose glorious existence is as brief and immediate as the blooming and falling of the cherry blossoms.

Thirty minutes later, the last firework sparkled and fizzled into the sea. John and Sonya sat silently, waiting for any more that may come, but none did. He was the one to stand first. "I guess that's it," he said. "You coming?"

She shook her head. "I'm going to sit here for a while."

"Okay then," he said, and left the beach without another word.

Sonya slept on the beach that night, the throb of the ocean's waves rocking her to sleep, the heat of the Summer keeping her warm.

Late into the season, Cliff was discovered by a young woman.

May was the wife of the florist and the granddaughter of the midwife. She was a pretty girl and married young, seventeen years into her life, and soon after took up her grandmother's profession. At the time, May was only a season away from birthing her own child.

The villagers wandered about the forest regularly, and May was no exception. On a particularly warm day when the air was so heavy with dirt she could smell it, May decided to take a rest in a small cavern on the side of the mountain. She found it comfortable, realizing that apparently someone had already decided to make camp there. She settled against the rock wall and placed a hand on her swollen belly, and rested for a good three minutes until she was disrupted by a ragged man. His clothing was odd and foreign, his chin was unshaven and layered with grime. He looked as though he hadn't bathed in weeks.

The man glared at her and she realized she must have been trespassing. She stood up wearily, leaned against the wall and leveled her eyes with his, asking evenly, "Who are you?"

"A traveler," he answered, though she could tell that before he had spoken.

"What might you be doing here?"

"I came here to meet family," he said briefly.

She exhaled deeply before continuing and looked him over as if to estimate. "Did you find them?"

He didn't answer. Just looked at her.

A gasp came from the entrance, and both of them turned their heads to find Sonya, a bowl of fruit in hand, staring at the midwife.

"May?"

"Sonya, dear, what are you doing here?" May pushed herself off of the wall.

Sonya tried explaining, creating an excuse, making odd, incomplete hand gestures, spilling out fragments of words and sentences, but no answer came.

"She's my niece," Cliff said suddenly. Both girls gave him a confused look. He continued, "I came here to visit her. Isn't that right, Sonya?"

Sonya blinked out of her befuddlement and nodded her head at May.

May frowned. She knew her mother had no siblings, and any brother of Kai wouldn't be so pale. "On which side?" she asked.

"I visited here once," said Cliff, avoiding her question. "More than a decade ago. You were a child back then, you'd come up in the mountains all the time."

May blinked, bewildered. Sonya could tell she was searching her mind for any memory of this man. "Who are you?"

"My name is Cliff, and yours is May," he said, grinning slyly. "You liked cats and you were always playing with those two little boys."

May was silent. She narrowed her dark eyes, searching for any signs of familiarity. And suddenly her lips parted, and she cried, "Oh, _Cliff!_" as though it were the most obvious thing in the world to her. "I remember you! Oh, I'd forgotten all about you! You were only here for like, a year, weren't you! Whatever happened to you? You never said goodbye! We thought you died or something!"

Sonya, on her part, was immensely confused.

"Sorry," Cliff was saying. "I was in a hurry. My, you've grown up, haven't you."

May was now shaking his hand. "Well, you've missed a few things!"

"And I can see you've been busy." Cliff grinned pointedly at her stomach. "May, dear, you can't be a day over twenty-one," he mocked, and May laughed.

"Well I'm married now," she said, beaming.

"To Stu?" said Cliff, and May burst aloud laughing again.

"Yes," she said after calming herself. "Cliff, how long have you been here?"

"I dunno, a couple weeks," he said.

"And how long has Sonya known about it?"

"Well, her house was the first place I went to..."

"Oh." May's arms fell to her sides, but she resumed her position promptly and smiled at him again. "Why haven't you told anyone? Come on, we need to reintroduce you to everyone! Stu will be so—"

"May, no." Cliff shook his head, frowning. "I'd rather not."

She looked at him half-pleadingly. "Why not? Everyone would be so happy..."

He rubbed the back of his neck, avoiding her eyes. "Maybe later. But not now."

"Oh fine," said May. "But I am going to be visiting you."

"Alright."

There was a brief silence. "Well, I should go," said May. "Stu's waiting. It was nice seeing you again."

"You too," said Cliff, and he shook her hand. "See you, then."

May turned to Sonya. "Are you coming?"

"Nah, I'm gonna stay for a little while."

"Suit yourself. Take care," she said, and then took her leave.

The moment May stepped out of the cave, Sonya turned and opened her mouth to speak, but Cliff beat her to it.

"Tell me what happened when you were born," he requested. "Tell me about your life."

Sonya blinked. What was this about? Did it have to do with May? Though she wanted to ask why, in her short time with Cliff she had learned not to question his actions, so she took a deep breath and began.

* * *

There was no one real place to begin, but Sonya believed the best place to start would be the day her own family began. Marriage, of course, was traditionally thought to be the beginning of a new life. Sonya's parents were married in the summertime, when the blossoms swelled to such a full bloom they withered off the trees.

The old midwife often told her: 'Twas a cursed time to marry. They should have married earlier in the Summer, in the spirit of marriage's time. She would have protected them, you see. But no, they picked the height of the season., when the nights were so feverish and the moons were so full it turned people crazy. They would slit the throats of their lovers and blame it on the wind.

And as she said this, she would shake her head piteously, rocking on her knees. I should have told them so, she'd say, I should have told them so.

Three seasons of marriage followed until Sonya was given to them. Sonya thought she came too soon. She thought she was a mistake, or at least an unwelcome surprise. Cliff said nothing, though he secretly agreed with her. Karen never wanted children, or never made any indication of it.

Sonya had to skip a few years after that, though she apologized for it. She was too young to remember.

After that, all she knew was that her mother left. He asked how old she was. Two, maybe three years old, she told him. Sonya admitted to having no true memories of her mother, just a pair of legs flitting across the carpet. But oh, she knew she was beautiful, and she was certain that she would know her the instant she saw her. She could spot her across a room, she claimed. And she would, too, for one day she'd go after her.

Cliff stopped her there and told her to continue with her story. She complied.

How did her father take it? Sonya could not answer Cliff this question. She explained to him she couldn't have possibly remembered. It's always been like this to me, she said. He didn't take it any way. As far as her memory went back, he'd already accepted it. She was gone, now it was just Sonya and her dad.

How is the vineyard doing?

Don't know. Don't care.

Cliff was silent at this. She was Karen's daughter, Kai's daughter. The woman who loved the vineyard with a fire and the man who put his life into it. How could she possibly not care?

Sonya was already continuing her story. She broke her arm while on the roller skates she got for her seventh birthday. She was a flower girl at Stu and May's wedding. She baked a cake for Rune on Thanksgiving twice, once when she was nine, once when ten. She once baked one for John, too, but she stopped (as well as screamed at him) when he teased her about it. She made things short, making sure not to be intricate with details for fear of boring her one-man audience.

When she mentioned the first time she hit her father, Cliff suddenly became immensely interested. "Hit your father?" He looked mortified and ready to berate her. "Why the hell would you do a thing like that?"

She explained that they were fighting about something or other, about how she was too lazy on the vineyard or she was too rude or she went off alone too much. Something stupid. All she knew was that the argument was heated, and both of them were feverish with anger, and he made a particularly vile comment and she smacked him. That silenced him, and she took this opportunity to run from the house.

She did it more than once, she told him. Cliff was vaguely surprised. She went on to tell him that Kai had never fought back till just recently, just before the Flower Festival.

Cliff said, "Stop there. You're getting ahead of yourself."

She nodded and continued. She told him she stopped working at the vineyard while she just years ago. She didn't remember why, but she said it was because she felt as though it wasn't her place there. And Cliff smiled ironically, for he knew it was a lie.


	6. Fireflies

**Chapter 6**

_They were married on a beautiful day in Spring. Ann was so nervous she felt she might be sick. Karen, as her best friend in the entire world, could do nothing but support her._

_"Ann, honey, it's going to be okay," she told her, holding her by her arms and forcing her to look her in the eye._

_"Oh, I don't know," Ann said, fidgeting in her seat. She was so beautiful in her dress, the one as white as the pearls strung around her neck, the one that fit her so perfectly. The blush in her cheeks lit a fire to her eyes as they danced about the room frantically. "If I'm so unsure..."_

_"What are you unsure about?" Karen asked. _Everything,_ she begged quietly._ Say it's everything. Say you don't think he's the right man for you.__

_"What if I don't make a good wife for him?" Ann's eyes faltered._

_Karen's grip on her shoulders tightened ever so slightly. Ann loved him so much, and Karen knew it._

_And nothing else mattered. Not even Karen's own feelings._

_"No one could make a better wife," Karen told her softly._

_Ann's words failed her. And, to Karen's surprise, she began to cry. Ann had never cried before, not once. But now involuntary tears spilled down her cheeks freely as ever, sweet, silent and beautiful, and Ann stifled a wail. She pulled Karen against her and hugged her close. Karen held her just as tightly._

_"Are you ready?" Karen asked into her ear._

_She heard Ann sniff. "As ready as I'll ever be."_

_Karen smiled gently and pressed her lips to Ann's forehead. "Then go on."_

_Ann dried her eyes and smiled, nodding. She gave Karen's hand a squeeze and turned away, smiling brightly. She turned her head before she left. "Wish me luck," she said, and then nearly ran from the room._

_"Good luck," Karen said under her breath._

_"It must be hard," said a voice from behind. Karen, startled, turned to find Kai, who was gazing at her sympathetically._

_He saw the cruel look in Karen's eyes before adding, "I mean, watching your best friend go like that. It must be hard sharing her with a husband."_

_Karen blinked. "Oh, yeah. Right."_

_"Um, Miss Karen, I know this may be the wrong time, but..." Kai shuffled his feet._

_"Just spit it out," she barked. She wasn't in the mood to talk._

_Kai nodded obediently and took one hand out from behind his back. There in his hand rested a blue feather, identical to the one Jack had given Ann. Karen gaped at it disbelievingly._

_"Will you marry me?"_

* * *

The Firefly Festival was one of the quieter festivals, but unmistakably one of Sonya's favorites. The tradition was to pay respects to those who had passed on by lighting paper flowers and sending them out to sea. This is how the festival got its name: the glowing flowers were much like fireflies. The spirits take solace in seeing the flowers, they say.

There was a flower for each family, or for each person, or for each spirit – it depended on how the family decided to do it. This year, Mint and her grandmother Lillia would send one out together while Gray and Popuri planned on sending one themselves. Popuri smiled serenely as she set the luminous moonlight stone into her flower. "Rest in peace, Papa," she whispered.

Kai and Sonya never really had anyone close that they could pay respects to, but they usually came anyway. When she was very young, Sonya had once sent a flower off to her mother, but back then she didn't know that "those who are gone" meant "those who have died."

John placed his flower onto the shore, keeping a hold onto it as to make sure the waves didn't carry it away yet. His parents were beside him, waiting for everyone else to arrive so they could set their flower off to sea. Ann was gazing sympathetically at Elli and Rune as they set up their own flower. "Poor Elli," she said, and Jack and John turned to look at her. "First she loses her parents, then her grandmother, then her husband. Life has a way of being cruel to people."

Jack blinked at his wife. It was odd to see Ann sympathizing over someone whom she envied so greatly, but she was right.

"It's odd," she continued. "Elli isn't one of those people who deserve to have things like that happen to her."

John observed his flower. Life doesn't pick and choose those things, he thought. It's like a disease; it hits randomly, whomever it reaches first.

Once Sonya arrived, she took her own flower from the ones the Mayor was offering and set it on the shoreline. She saw Rune waving to her and nodded as he approached.

"Take this," he said, a dropped a tiny glowing bottle into Sonya's hands. She examined it. "What is it?" she asked him.

"Moondrop dew," he answered proudly, and Sonya gazed at the bottle again. The bottle contained a golden liquid, somehow alight. "My mom got some last year during the Fall. Go ahead, put it in your flower."

Sonya complied, removing the moonlight stone and instead put in the moondrop dew. It glowed just the same, only instead of emitting a silvery golden light, the color it radiated was closer to a copper hue that reminded her of the harvest moon.

"Thanks," said Sonya, and Rune grinned at her.

"Anytime." And with that, he was off. She could have sworn she saw Rune and John exchange secretive grins as he passed, but she excused the thought, thinking it unimportant.

Sonya slipped her sandals off and set her feet into the water, which was refreshingly cool. When the mayor gave the signal, she set off her flower, watching as the sea carried away the flood of golden lights.

That night, Sonya dreamed of the purple of the grapevines, the silver of fairy lights, and the gold of the harvest moon.

* * *

Just before the Swimming Festival, John, Mint and Rune had gathered at the beach. Mint had earlier objected for fear of the sun burning her delicate skin, but John and Rune wouldn't hear of it. They plucked her out of bed and nearly dragged her out to the ocean, claiming it was crucial that she came.

When Rune pulled out a bottle of wine from a bag, Mint looked from the bottle, to Rune, to the bottle, and said, "_This_ is what was so important?"

John's hands were already on the bottle, and he snatched it from Rune's hands greedily. "Door to Heaven!" he proclaimed immediately. "Rune, where did you get this? I thought they didn't make this anymore!" He paused briefly, but went on before giving Rune a chance to answer. "This isn't one of the newer ones, is it? Those are supposed to be really bad..."

"No, check the date," said Rune.

John did so and nodded in approval. Once again, he asked, "Where did you get this?"

"Uncle Duke gave it to me," said Rune.

Mint, in the meantime, was parting her lengthy tresses, trying to make sense of the mess of hair John and Rune had made while dragging her here. "Well, I'm glad you two like it so much, but what does this have to do with me?"

"Well, I was going to ask you what I should do with it..."

Mint tugged at her hair. "Why me?"

Rune's expression tightened. "I want your opinion, that's why! I need to know what to do with it!"

Mint looked at him. "Why's it so important?"

Rune sighed, shrugging in defeat. "I don't know."

John, meanwhile, had been observing the bottle quietly. "Do you really think it could help with the vineyard?"

"What are you talking about?" Mint, for now, had chosen to ignore her hair.

Rune went on as though Mint had never spoken. "Honestly, I don't know. I think we should leave it with Kai, though."

"No..." John pressed the bottle into the sand. "He might, you know... drink it..."

"Sonya then," Rune said.

"She'd definitely drink it," John replied.

Mint placed her hand between the two of them. "Wait. What's this about this bottle helping with what?"

Rune eyed Mint. "Uncle Duke said that it may help with bringing the vineyard back into shape. How, I don't know."

"So... Drinking it is bad."

"Yes," said Rune and John simultaneously.

Mint touched the bottle gently, prodding it. She said nothing.

"Rune, you should just keep it for now." John looked at Rune seriously. "Just until we figure out what to do with it."  
  
Mint interjected. "Are you sure? I think maybe we should give it to Sonya or her dad. They need it more than we do."

"No!" John glared at her, alarmed. "They don't know..."

"And how do you know?" Mint glared back intensely. "How do you know that Kai hasn't been searching for one of these? How do you know he doesn't know what to do with it?"

John's eyes rested on her, calm, even. "Okay, then why don't you ask?" Mint tilted her head. "Ask Kai what he knows," he continued. "Until you can say that he knows what to do with it, Rune will keep the bottle. Okay?"

Mint observed him, searching for any sign of uncertainty, but his expression was fixed. "Fine," she said. "Just keep in mind it's rightfully Kai's."

* * *

The swimming race went just as quickly as it came. None of the children were allowed to participate, though each of them came along with the rest of the villagers to cheer on their fathers. Stu won, and no one was surprised, as he had youth on his side.

The day after the Swimming Festival was the first day since mid-Spring that was actually cold. Fog had set in that morning, sucking away the heat from the sun and leaving the rest of the day refreshingly cold.

The first person Rune visited was Mia. In the library, he showed her the Door to Heaven eagerly, and she observed the bottle carefully.

"This was made when Eve was around," she said after checking the date, and Rune was surprised she knew that. "That means it's good wine."

"So what should I do with it?"

"Throw a party and drink it for all it's worth," she joked.

Rune let out an unenthusiastic "Haha," before continuing with, "Mia, listen. I think we could use this to help Kai out, you know?"

She arched an eyebrow. "So give it to him."

"No, but I think we should..."

Mia raised her glasses to her forehead. "He can take the wine and make more wine from it, using the same technique that Eve did just from studying it. The vineyard will be back in business."

But it wasn't like that. Rune of all people knew this. "It's not the recipe that's different, it's the grapes."

"You want a book on the vineyard, yes?" Mia smiled.

"Sort of... I want a book on the village folklore."

"Okay then," said Mia, and she turned back to her sketchbook. "It's in the history section."

"Thanks," he said, and began working his way through the shelves.

He had found the book he had in mind within five minutes. It wasn't drastically large in size, but it was decent enough, providing tales and background stories for the valley in which he resided. Most of the tales were centered on the Harvest Goddess, as he expected.

Maria, who had been at the counter, waved to him as he made his way out the door. "Make sure to return it within four weeks," she called.

"Will do!"


	7. Chatter

**Chapter 7**

_"Karen, I'm pregnant!" Ann, completely ecstatic, nearly danced in her seat._

_Karen felt her stomach drop. She felt sick, though she wasn't surprised. Ann had been complaining of the obvious symptoms for weeks._

_She masked her despair with a smile and hid her anger with a hug. She squealed in feigned glee. _Be happy for Ann, _Karen pleaded to herself. _Please be happy for Ann.__

_"Congratulations!" she said, trying desperately to maintain the fading smile on her face._

_"Oh, Karen, isn't it wonderful?" Ann began, who was fortunately too caught up in her own excitement to notice the anger behind Karen's expression. "Imagine me, a mother! I never would have thought... I wonder if I'll be a good mother?"_

_"You'll be great," said Karen half-heartedly, but Ann was already continuing._

_"I don't have to read up on maternity books now, do I? No, of course not. I mean, animals have babies all the time, and they don't read any books on how to take care of their kids! If they know how to do it naturally, then so should I. Sheesh. This means I can't really come to the bar now, can I? Well, I suppose I can, but I just can't drink..."_

_Karen felt like throwing her glass onto the floor and stomping it into tiny, microscopic bleeding pieces. She wanted to watch the liquid seep through the floorboards, she wanted to stain it with the blood red of the wine. She felt like smacking Ann, she felt like screaming at the entire world. She wanted to break something, she needed to see something as broken as she was. "See how it feels?!" she wanted to holler. "See how much it hurts?!"_

_Ann was still talking. Karen could have gone out to buy lunch and Ann wouldn't have noticed. _She'd still probably be talking when I got back, _she thought cruelly._

_She loathed everyone, everything. Everyone who refused to see how much she suffered, everyone who ignored her misery. No one was that blind._

_Here she was, watching her best friend and the man she loved live their wonderful lives together, and it killed her. No one wanted to notice the gash it left, no one wanted to see how much it hurt._

_In fact, they all seemed elated in spite of it._

* * *

It was an early Fall day when Mint finally worked up the nerve to visit the vineyard.

It turns out Kai knew little about Heaven's Gate, and after Mint had asked him what he would do if he were able to obtain any, he laughed, loud and hard.

"Mint, sweetheart," he'd said, "If there was any of that stuff left in the world, I'd have my hands on it."

Mint giggled sheepishly.

On her way out, she saw Sonya and Rune working between the vines. Or, rather, she saw Rune working between the vines and Sonya staring at a handful of tiny grapes disappointedly.

When Sonya saw Mint passing by, she called out to her. "Hey, Mint?"

Mint turned. "Yeah?"

Sonya stirred the grapes in her hand. "Mint, does my hair look... different to you?"

"Did you do something to it?" Mint leaned forward to get a better look. "Did you cut it or something?"

"No!" Sonya tugged a front strand of her hair, jabbing it in Mint's direction. "Doesn't it look sort of lighter to you?"

"Ohhh!" Mint regained her posture. Sonya was right: that particular strand seemed tinted with gold. "Well, now that you mention it, I suppose it does... maybe. Why?"

"It wasn't like that before..."

"It's probably because you've been spending so much time in the sun," said Mint, nodding knowledgeably. "Your skin looks a little darker, too."

"My skin's always been a little darker than yours, though."

Mint shook her head. "No, I think the sun just bleached your hair and tanned your skin, that's all."

Sonya frowned. "You're sure it's not because it just looks darker against the hair?"

"Positive," Mint assured.

"'Kay then, just checking."

"Don't worry, it'll go away by Winter." With that, Mint left.

Sonya's hair was the least of her worries. As far as she could tell, it was another poor year for the vineyard: the grapes had hardly turned purple. She made her way back to the vines, plucked a grape off of one, and held it between her thumb and index finger, trying to squish it. It was as hard as a pebble.

"C'mon, it's not so bad," said Rune from behind. "I think it's better than last year. And besides, we're not harvesting for another two or three weeks."

Sonya sighed and tossed the grape onto the ground. "I'm going for a walk," she said.

* * *

"How's the vineyard?"

"Terrible," Sonya answered, slumping against the cave wall.

"Why am I not surprised?" Cliff tossed a stone up and down, up and down.

"Dad should stop it," Sonya remarked. "The grapevines are hardly even rooting into the ground. You should see the grapes. They're so tiny I could stuff every single one of them on every single one of those vines into my mouth."

"I've seen worse," said Cliff. "Can you ever recall a good year?"

Sonya hugged her knees and rolled her shoulders. "Once, the year before Grandma and Grandpa left. I don't know why, but they just decided to grow big that one time."

"That happens." Cliff sighed. "I betcha the Harvest Sprites would know what we could do."

"Harvest Sprites..." Sonya rolled her eyes. "I should introduce you to Rune. He won't shut up about them lately."

Cliff seemed interested. "What's he saying?"

"'Did you know that the Goddess gave life to the Harvest Sprites before the forest?'" Sonya imitated in a buttery, high-pitched voice. "'The Harvest Sprites are the Goddess's vessels! The Harvest Sprites are the guardians of the forest, you know! The Harvest Sprites know _everything_ about the spirits!'"

Cliff chuckled. "Smart kid."

"Crazy's more like it," she said.

"Do you believe in the Goddess?" Cliff asked suddenly.

Caught off-guard, she didn't know how else to respond but by shrugging.

"You should look into it," Cliff advised. "Like your friend was saying, there's supposed to be a spirit for everything. A spirit for power, weather, love – and even a spirit for grapes, I believe."

Sonya snorted, she couldn't help it. "Grape spirit!" She threw up her arms. "Well then, I suppose our little grape spirit's been on vacation for a real long time, now hasn't he?"

Cliff laughed. "Look into it, Sonya. It should help."

"I'd sooner drown myself in the Goddess pond," Sonya said, rising to her feet. "Tell me when you're feeling normal. I'll be glad to talk once you've come to your senses." She cast one more look at him before she slipped through the crevice and left.

"Kids..." Cliff stood up. "Now what did Duke say he did with that wine...?"

* * *

"He knows nothing," said Mint irritably. "He thought I was crazy for even mentioning the wine."

Rune shrugged. "Well, there's our answer. So we can't give it to Kai, then?"

"No." Mint tapped her toes on the floor of the bakery.

"Say, Mint..."

Mint turned to face him. "Yes?"

"Do you mind taking the wine for a while? I think my mom's onto me. Who knows what she'd do to me if she caught me hiding _wine_."

Mint pouted. "Rune..."

"Seriously, Mint. Please? Just for a little while?" Rune folded his hands together childishly, a little boy begging for a treat.

"Fine, fine." Mint sighed. "But you should know that I hardly trust myself with it."

"Look, that's fine, I just need you to take it for now."

Mint held out her hand, impatient. The bottle was in it within ten seconds.

"Okay, now go before Mom sees you!"

Mint scowled. "Don't act so eager for me to leave."

"Mint..."

"Fine, I'm leaving," she said, beginning her march out the door. "Have a nice day."

As she stepped out the bakery, Mint observed the bottle in her hand. She hardly trusted herself with it. She may break it, she may lose it, she may even drink it, for all she knew. She scowled, knowing Rune had made a huge mistake.

Mint stopped at the crossroads, contemplating. Why did the wine have to be such a big secret? So what if people knew? She observed the bottle again. The wine was identical to the color of grapes, very sweet, very natural looking. She thought of uncorking the bottle. A little sip wouldn't hurt, right?

...Right?

No. Wrong. Mint shook her head, clearing her mind of any such thoughts. No, no, no. It isn't yours, Mint, it isn't yours, it's Kai's...

_Darn it, Mint, what have you gotten yourself into?_ Mint looked down the path, looking pointedly at the large, impressive manor that was but a few minutes' walk away. She was going to pay a visit to a friend tonight.

* * *

Mia stood precariously at the door, her hand wrapped tightly around the warm metal of the door handle. The door stood ajar ever so slightly, and the light from the room on the other side spilled out into the hallway in a sliver of gold. Inside, Mia's mother and her grandmother conversed in harsh, albeit hushed voices, and Mia was straining her small ears to listen.

"She's turning out to be just like you, Maria," said her mother, brutally frank, as per usual. "She'll never marry at this rate."

"She's _twelve_, mother!" Maria protested in a hiss. "Give her some time."

"You were just like her when you were twelve," her grandmother insisted, her tone feminine and proper. "Hesitant, uneager, constantly lulling about in your own little dream world..."

"Mother, don't..."

"She'll be marrying in but a few years," she continued primly. Mia grimaced, knowing fully that she was exaggerating, but it stung all the same. "And with so few men her age in the village..."

"Mother, I'm sure we shouldn't be discussing this yet."

"The Harvest Festival is but days away," insisted her grandmother, tossing her head, horse like, so that her billowy hair glinted silver in the lamplight. "Mia and the other girls will be taking your place in the dancing, dear."

Maria was silent, defeated. Her daughter egged her on mentally: _No, no, tell her marriage is years away! Tell her I'm not interested in any of the boys here! Tell her..._

Before giving Maria a chance to respond, her grandmother spoke once more. "And besides, one girl's bound to be left out. There are three girls, but two boys. Mint's personality is positively entrancing, you know, and even aside from that, she's gorgeous. Kai's daughter, resistant as she is, inherited her looks from Karen." Mia scowled as she listened. Sonya wasn't _that_ pretty. "And I'm almost positive that John is taking an interest—"

"There aren't two bachelors, there are three," Maria cut in offhandedly, jumping back to her mother's earlier comment before she'd begun to analyze the girls. She was desperate to win at least one battle with her mother. "Kent's still a bachelor."

Mia's grandmother shook her head discontentedly. "He's a decade older than all of them."

"Jeff was fifteen years older than Elli, and their marriage was beautiful." Maria challenged her mother to outdo that with a bold look in her dark eyes.

"Still." Maria's mother shrugged her thin shoulders and sipped her glass of water, and though her chin was still held high, her eyes were noticeably glued to her lap, avoiding her daughter's. Maria grinned victoriously, a glimmer of triumph in her eye.

Maria rose graciously to her feet and spoke. "And even if she turned out like me, I'm married, and I couldn't be happier."

Mia stood joyously behind the door, silently celebrating her mother's triumph. She had a certain new respect for her, and a certain tiny grudge against her grandmother... But this last bit delighted her. She doubted she would marry in this town, anyway, and it wasn't up to her grandmother to decide whom.

There came a quick knock at the door, and Mia was all too happy to answer. She scurried to the front door and opened it to reveal Mint, a green bottle of wine in her delicate hands.

"Mia?" Mint asked sweetly, her eyes sweeping the room behind her to make sure no one was listening. "I need you to do me a favor..."


	8. Seventh

**Author's Notes:** Don't you just _love _how ff.n won't let you so much as put asteriks in stories anymore? Grr. Anyway, I took the liberty of cleaning up this story a bit, fixing tiny mistakes and replacing the "- - -" thingies with horizontal lines. Gah, I'm so horribly lazy with updates... I don't think I do this nearly often enough, so I'll do it now: thanks very, _very_ much to all reviewers - not only are reviews nice confidence boosters, but they're very helpful as well. Soo... thankew! n.n

* * *

**Chapter 8**

_It was Fall 7th._

_Karen lifted her head from the ground and laughed ironically, loud and hard – so hard she thought she might vomit again. The strangest things always happened on Fall 7th. She would remember each and every 7th day of Fall she'd ever lived through for the rest of her days._

_Three years ago, Fall 7th was the day Gray fell from his horse and lost his ability to ride. Later that day, Karen discovered that this was the first year the grapes lost their color._

_Two years ago, Fall 7th was the day she danced in front of an entire crowd of people and was offered a job in the city. That same evening, her father actually hit her for the first time._

_Last year, Fall 7th was the day she fell in love with Jack as he danced with her at the beach. She laughed so hard and so happily and was so overcome with elatedness she thought she would explode. _

_This year took the cake. On this day, Fall 7th, after weeks of constant vomiting and overeating and food that tasted like brass, after screaming at Kai that no, she had not gained weight when she knew she undoubtedly had, she finally realized she was carrying a child._

_"HAH," she laughed and leaned against the fencepost, and mimicked in a high, familiar voice: "Imagine me, a mother!"_

_Of course she hadn't meant for this to happen. This was Kai's fault, he took advantage of her. Of course it was Kai. Stupid, idiotic Kai, who had fallen in love with a vixen. Moronic, simple-minded Kai, who made her realize she had to prove she could live without Jack by marrying another man. Foolish, ignorant Kai, who wouldn't decline her offer the night she'd drunken herself silly. He knew she was drunk, and still he couldn't refuse to lie down with her. Stupid, stupid, stupid Kai._

_But...___

_Would she have refused Jack, even if he wasn't in his right mind? Karen grimaced._

_It wasn't Kai, she decided: it was the wine._ _She could have smacked herself for looking so hard for excuses, but at that time it felt so true. It was the wine she loved so much, the wine that had robbed her of her wits. It was the wine that drained whatever consciousness she had from her mind and thrust her into a drunken oblivion where she was trapped within herself, aware of nothing outside of her body. She concluded: It was the wine that had given her a child. A child. She could feel it already, she loathed this child who invaded her body so suddenly. And she hated herself for it._

_But goodness, wasn't it _funny?__

_She was trapped here in this village she hated so much, living on a dying vineyard, and she'd done this to herself. How funny. She'd married a man she didn't love and would bear his child in two seasons. Hilarious! Absolutely hilarious!_

_Karen was laughing again. This wouldn't have even happened if she'd left for the city. It was amazing, really – something as insignificant as a schoolgirl crush nearly ruined her. She was hooting with laughter now. "Karen, you foolish little girl!"_

_But it was so funny..._

_So funny she could cry._

* * *

It was Fall 7th.

As she browsed the racks of wine, John leered at her. "You're not really gonna drink any, are you?"

Truth be told, Sonya had no intention of actually drinking any wine, but she wasn't about to tell him that. "Maybe." She brushed her fingertips on each bottle, carefully scanning through each one, until finally stopping on one on the second shelf. She pulled it out of the rack carefully, and nearly doubling over under the weight of the bottle once it slipped out of place. She brushed the dust off the label, and John was surprised to see what it said.

"Last bottle of Door to Heaven ever made," Sonya said. "Made when I was six."

John shoved his hands into his pockets. "It can't be very good then."

Sonya scowled. "Well, you're awful blunt. For your information, my dad let me taste some earlier. I still think it's great."

John leaned against the wall tiredly. "Have you ever had the original?"

Sonya kept her eyes locked on the bottle. "When I was four..."

"Your parents let you have wine when you were _four?"_

Sonya frowned. "My grandpa gave me some."

John laughed, sliding to the ground. "I can't believe you still remember that."

"Well..." Sonya sighed. She couldn't remember the taste, or the wine at all – just her grandpa's bearded, smiling face as he tipped his glass to her. And even that memory was so far gone her mind had probably demented it.

"What's it taste like?" John asked her. She sat against the wall opposite him, the bottle of wine sitting in her lap, which looked to John like she was almost holding an infant.

"What, the wine?" She paused, rolling the bottle in her hands. "Why don't you try it for yourself?"

"I don't think so," said John. Sonya shrugged as if to say "your loss," and popped the bottle open.

"I still can't believe you're doing that," said John. "You're young. It'll screw you up."

Sonya shrugged. "Not really, only if you drink a lot."

John stood up from the ground, eyes on the bottle. Sonya watched him as he approached her and snatched the bottle from her hands. "Hey!" she cried.

"If this is the last bottle of Door to Heaven, your dad will get mad if you drink it," he said coolly.

"I don't care!" Sonya rose to her feet.

"You should," said John as he slid the bottle back into place.

"What's your problem?" she hissed, her eyes bright with fire. "I don't get..."

"Listen, Sonya." He cut her off, and he suddenly seemed quiet, his eyes were unfocused on the floor, and she could tell he wanted to tell her something.

"What is it?" she asked, though it was more of a command than a request.

"Look, I hear a lot of things..."

A pause. 

"What?" she said.

"You know your mom..."

Sonya could have screamed; her mother was all people seemed to be talking about lately. But instead she held her temper and gritted her teeth, dreading what was coming next.

John was rubbing the back of his neck. "She really loved wine."

Sonya was only slightly taken aback at how little severity there was in the statement. "So?"

"No, I mean, she _loved_ it," he continued. "She had a passion for it. She um..." He paused again, he seemed to be searching for the right words. "It kind of consumed her. It really messed her up."

"Oh, shut up!" Sonya knew where he was going. And despite the purity of his intentions, she couldn't help but feel brutally offended.

"Sonya, it's true!" he insisted. "I don't want to see you—"

Her eyes flashed. "Okay, first of all, you have no right to talk about my mom like that. Second of all, I don't see how you could even suggest that I'm gonna become some... some _drunkard_..."

"I'm trying to help, okay?" he said, nearly yelling. "If you think I'm just going to stand back and watch history repeat itself like—"

"What are you on about?! Whatever you think happened with her, it's not gonna happen again, all right?! You... How dare you even... You're so – you're so annoying!"

But John, to her surprise, said nothing to defend himself. Instead, he folded his arms and shifted his weight and leaned against the cellar walls, and his eyes bore ferociously into hers.

"And you're _rude!_" she went on, hoping to shove him out with insults. "And you're freaking nosy, and more importantly – you're conceited, waltzing around thinking you're better than everyone, thinking that everything's you're business, and feeling sorry for me all the time – I don't need pity, all right?! You're a nasty, big-headed idiot, and... _and__ I can't believe you're just standing there!_"

And to her annoyance, her insults were merely bouncing off of him. He looked, if anything, amused. Sonya's temper rose to a boiling point, and she shrieked aloud. "_What is your problem?!"_

He cracked a grin.

The idiot _grinned._

Sonya thrust an accusing finger at him. "Oh, so you're smirking now!" she fumed. Her finger jabbed his chest, and he started... laughing.

She clenched her teeth, she could hardly stand how infuriating he was. "You think..."

He was still laughing just as hard, if not harder. Oh, was she angry with him.

"You think this is..."

...But why was she angry with him again?

"You think... you think this is funny?!"

...But wasn't it funny? It was rather silly, really, now that she thought about it: he bursting with laughter and trying to keep his balance against the wall, she with her finger raised pointed at him as if she was aiming a shotgun...

"You think you..."

Gods, this was funny...

And soon she found herself contaminated with his laughter, and she was backing up against the opposite wall, giggling insanely. The sight of Sonya actually overcome with laughter and her finger still raised in the air was enough to knock John over, and he was soon doubled up on the floor. "You're an idiot!" Sonya choked between laughs. "A – complete – moron!"

But John couldn't respond, all he could do was hack another round of laughs.

Several moments passed before Sonya was able to work up the strength to crawl over to John's corner of the cellar and whack his shoulder. "I hate you!" she declared, though she was still giggling like a fool.

But John took this as a very high form of a compliment, and thanked her promptly. Sonya, who had long since given up on trying to scare him away with offenses, fell to the floor, trying vainly to stifle her giggles.

* * *

_Ah, my favorite day of the year,_ she thought to herself.

She stood at the dock, watching the ocean, listening as the waves licked the plank below. She breathed in the ocean air, relishing in the salty aroma of the sea. How she'd missed it. A ferry was sailing across the sea, she noticed. It was all that was to be seen: the sky was hidden beneath a blanket of cold, grey clouds, and surprisingly, there wasn't a seagull in sight, despite the fact she could hear their cries from wherever they were hiding.

She turned her back to the ocean, facing the small building across the street. She was about to do the thing that would make this Fall 7th stand out from the rest of the days of the year.

In the building, she approached the man at the desk. He was lanky, sleepy, and unshaven, half-reading a magazine.

"When is the next ferry to Flower Bud leaving?"

Her voice was rich, smooth and even as silk, pleasant to the ears. The man looked up from his magazine and into one of the most bewitchingly beautiful faces he'd ever seen. "The next boat?" he asked her, feigning puzzlement, just to hear her voice again.

"Yes," she said. "To Flower Bud."

"The last one just left a few days ago," he answered. She could tell he was unable to keep his eyes off her face. Her stomach clenched uncomfortably. "The next one won't be leaving 'till Winter."

She placed a sum of money on the counter and said calmly, "I want a ticket for that, then."

He slid a ticket towards her, purposely brushing his hand against hers. She withdrew her hand immediately, a pleasant smile adorning her face and a dangerous look behind her eyes.

"Thank you," she said, turning to leave without a second glance. As she stepped out of the building, her copper hair whipped about her face and her jacket was swept to the side. The salty ocean air, sweet and alluring, beckoned her. She turned her head in the direction of the wind and wasn't surprised to see it was blowing towards Flower Bud Village.

* * *

"Where's John?" Ann asked Jack as she tied her hair up.

Jack yawned over his cup of coffee. "I dunno," he droned, scratching his neck tiredly. "Didn' you see him?"

"Nope," Ann replied, weaving her hair together.

"'Salright," Jack said. "He prob'ly just got up early or sumthin'."

Ann sighed and shook her head, amused. He truly was a different person in the morning.

There was a knock at the door, and Ann promptly rose to answer it. At the door was Mint, showing a smile as bright as ever. "Aunt Ann, can I ask you a favor?" she asked sweetly.

Ann leaned against the doorframe. "Sure, honey. What is it?"

"Well, Daisy just gave birth, right? But the problem is that we don't have any more room for cows in the barn right now. So Dad was wondering—"

"I'll take care of the calf for you," Ann laughed.

"Thanks!" Mint chirped excitedly. "I'll bring her over right now!"

Ann made her way back into the kitchen to see Jack washing his face. "We've got another mouth to feed," she said casually.

Jack jumped, dropping the cloth in his hand. "Wha?!"

Ann giggled, hoping that that had brought him to his senses. "The cow at the ranch just gave birth and they need us to take care of the calf," she said.

"Oh." Jack slid into his seat. "I thought you meant..."

Ann giggled again, taking her seat next to him. "Well, looks like John's got one more chore to do around here. Where is that boy, anyway?"

* * *

There was a tree. A tree, dead center in the middle of a wasteland, empty, silent, alone. It was nerve-wracking, never before had he seen such a desolate place. It was barren and hollow, completely devoid of any life. It chilled him. It stretched for miles, the wasteland – the only thing in sight was that tree, but even that seemed dead to the world. What else could he do but approach it?

And so he did. His footsteps made no sound, and a certain realization dawned: there was no sound in this place. He couldn't hear _anything._ He was positive it wasn't his own ears: this place was so dormant, it couldn't even produce noise.

He touched the bark of the tree. It was cold, dry and ridden with dust, it felt as dead as it looked. He scraped off a flake of bark noiselessly, and it tumbled lightly to the ground without a sound. Nothing.

And suddenly there was a woman. How she got there, he didn't know – but there she was, sitting lazily atop the decaying branches of the tree, a milky leg dangling over the dry twigs and swinging softly like a pendulum. Her hair, more like satin than human tresses, spilled over her shoulders in a stream of violet, her eyes danced behind a sly smile, and she was gazing at him as if to say, "I know something you don't know."

He wanted to ask her what, but he knew speaking was worthless in this place.

Her secretive smile widened to a toothy grin, and he somehow felt as though she was daring herself to open her mouth entirely and spill out all her delectable secrets to him.

He wanted to speak. He couldn't.

It happened quite unexpectedly: her jaw flung open and she giggled. He _heard_ her giggle – it rang musically, her voice alone was so celestial it sounded more like she was singing than laughing. It was the only sound within this place, and it resounded against the treetop, came at him all at once. The voice wasn't coming from her, it was springing from everywhere. And it stopped just as abruptly as it started.

It was then things began to become strange. Her eyes shifted, from the palest to the brightest of blues, wide and bright and alive.

_Who are you?_ He couldn't hear it, but he knew she knew what he was thinking it.

Her eyes changed once again, this time to a deep emerald, cat-like and alluring in a strange sense. Where had he seen those eyes before...?

And why did he hear barking?

John's eyes fluttered open, and the woman's face vanished before his eyes. He could have placed those eyes if he'd just had ten more seconds...

There was an irritating scratching at the door, and a pitiful whimpering sounding from the other side. He turned around to meet the source of the noise, and when he spotted Sonya lying motionless on the floor with her back to him, his insides suddenly turned to lead dropped. He quickly collected himself and scrambled off the floor, rushing to the other side of the cellar (Goddess, he was still in the cellar?) and opening the door.

He was ambushed immediately as a little brown dog, no taller than his shin, tackled him and forced him to the floor. The little animal clambered over his stomach and attacked his face with its tongue. John was grateful, but he was in no mood to play with his dog right now, for he had just realized it was morning.

Sonya was grunting from behind him; she was stirring from sleep. He had to get out. Now.

He jumped to his feet (effectively knocking the disgruntled dog off his chest) and hastened out the door, shutting it as quietly as he possibly could, and raced off the vineyard, the little brown dog at his heels.


End file.
